


Austria Oneshots

by TsukiDragneel



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Austria Likes Cake, F/F, F/M, Germany is Holy Roman Empire, M/M, Music, My friend made me post the first one so I guess I'm posting the others, Okay so it's more onesided Austria/Switzerland, Oops, Piano, So I guess I'm doing this, Why did I search up piano music, and not even in Switzerland's chapter, its like the prompt barely counts XD, so um i may have killed off someone, why
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-05 12:19:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15863490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TsukiDragneel/pseuds/TsukiDragneel
Summary: Basically a bunch of one-shots. Mostly Austria-centric.





	1. Day 1: Solo Austria

Music is not something that comes easy.

Music requires dedication, practice, and commitment. It requires time, sacrifice, and solitude.

But in return, being able to coax superb sounds out of an inanimate object feels… gratifying.

The brown-haired man allows himself the faintest of smiles as slender hands dance across the gleaming keys of the piano. He’s playing… he can’t quite remember. All he knows is the melodies filling the room.

_“Chopin. Your anger is Chopin.” ___

__They mock what they do not understand, he decides, hands flying back and forth across their arpeggio. They mock him without even trying to understand._ _

_“Aiyah! How are you so slow!”_

____Because, he wants to reply, his legs and feet hurt from the piano. Because, he wants to tell them, I’m already tired from my music._ _ _ _

____They wouldn’t believe him, though. They never would understand his dedication to the piano._ _ _ _

____As his hands hit the final chord, he stares up, into the skylight, where the morning sunlight casts him and his piano in an ethereal glow._ _ _ _

____De capo al fine, the cycle repeats._ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> D.C. al fine, or da capo al fine, means “from the head [beginning] to the end.


	2. Day 2: + Prussia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for posting late :(  
> This is a fluffy one! I hope... my fluff writing ability is sorely lacking.

He reaches for his inkwell, dipping the feathered quill in, and tapping it against the side.

“Austria…”

Lowering it to the parchment, he inks in a C major arpeggio.

“Austria…”

Eye twitching slightly, he adds another chord.

“Austria!”

“What!” he snaps, turning around to see an albino lounging on a couch.

“What are you doing,” Prussia groans. “You’ve been writing that piece for hours.”

Austria doesn’t deign his complaint worthy of reply, and instead flips through his pages of sheet music.

“How does music even take that long to write?” Prussia huffs, striding over to breathe down his neck. “You promised we could go out for dinner… and it’s almost seven...”

A cursory glance at his watch validates Prussia’s statement, and a wave of guilt washed over him.

“I’m sorry,” Austria mumbles, placing the stack of papers atop the piano. “We must have missed our reservation…”

“Nope!” Prussia smirks, playfully poking his nose. “The reservation is for seven thirty, so if we hurry, we can make it!”

Prussia grasps his wrist firmly, and with a glowing smile drags him out the door.

“Prussia- slow down!” Austria exclaims. His feet and legs are still sore from the piano, and his boyfriend’s pace isn’t helping.

“Nope!” Prussia grins, crimson eyes sparkling. “Because if I do, we’ll never get there on time!”

“...I suppose you’re right…”

As leaves fall around them, Austria finds his inspiration for his next piece. When he looks at his boyfriend, silhouetted by the sunset and eyes matching the season... it’s almost awe-inspiring.

“Prussia… how would you feel if I wrote a piece about you?”

“Really? That would be awesome!”

The next day, he publishes his next piece, “Autumn Turns To Winter”. When he plays it for Prussia, it’s impossible to tell who cries more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized almost all of these are music-centered XD


	3. Day 3: + Switzerland

Their history is tangled, like two strings in a tapestry. Confusing and twisting, thick at some parts and razor-thin at others.

If Switzerland had his way, he would never see Austria again.

Unfortunately, fate has a way of ruining his plans.

The two meet again in a park. Austria’s taking advantage of the open piano, and Switzerland to gather leaves for Liechtenstein.

Austria chose an odd piece for fall, Liebestraum no. 3. It’s a love song, and Switzerland isn’t sure exactly why that of all things is what he chooses to play.

Or, for that matter, why there’s a piano in a park. But that’s a moot point.

He finds himself drawn closer to listen. Austria may never have been a fighter, but when he sits before a piano, the world falls away.

He doesn’t notice when his heart beats a bit faster as he stares at Austria’s slender visage, caught perfectly in the sunlight. He doesn’t notice as he steps out from the tree where he was hiding, so as to avoid being caught.

The other nation’s hands land on the last note, and he throws his head back, staring into the clouds. A solitary tear mingles with the sweat rolling down his face, and Switzerland has to fight the irrational urge to wipe it away.

Applause rings out through the park, and without hesitation, Switzerland joins in. Because it really is impressive. Austria’s skill never seems to diminish through the ages. 

As he turns to leave, a hand clasps on his shoulder.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Austria states, slightly out of breath. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“Let me go!” Switzerland exclaims, twisting out of his grip. “I do not need you. Stay away from me and Liechtenstein.”

He turns to walk away, conversation over.

“Liar.”

Austria glares at him over his glasses, violet eyes narrowed in reproach. “You’re lying. You came to see me perform.”

“I did not,” Switzerland huffs. “I came to gather leaves.”

“And yet you came all the way here instead of going to the park near your house.”

“I like to travel.”

Austria sighs, pushing Mariazell back against his head. “If you insist. Thank you for attending my performance.”

Switzerland isn’t exactly sure why his heart twinges as Austria walks away, but he doesn’t like it.

“...I must be sick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dont worry angst is soon to come :)  
> but I think this one came out well


	4. Day 4: + Hungary

“And… perfect!”

“What are you doing?” Prussia asks, leaning over the back of the couch to stare at Hungary.

“I’m making a cake for Austria!” Hungary replies, grass-green eyes sparkling as she smiles. “I hope he likes it…”

Prussia snorts, hopping off the couch and moving to examine the cake.

“Why’d you make him a cake? It’s not his birthday.”

“There’s nothing wrong with cake for the sake of cake!” Hungary grins, adjusting her beret.

Leaning over to scrutinize it, Prussia realizes something immediately.

“Hungary… that’s my face.”

It’s a representation of Prussia that’s quite well done. The eyes are chocolate drops, Gilbird is cotton candy, and the rest is made of icing. “Why is it my face?”

“Well, Austria always talks about how he’d love to stab you in the face with a fork,” Hungary smiles, though it’s strained. “I thought this would be the closest he would get to the sentiment.”

“Gk-”

“You’re not going to destroy it, are you?”

“No,” Prussia smiles, placing his fingertip in the icing and dragging it through in a line. Hungary’s eyes go stone-cold as he does, and her grip tightens on her frying pan. 

Prussia places his finger in his mouth and pulls it out with an audible ‘pop’. “Delicious!”

Hungary stares at the cake with irritation. The icing is smudged and one of the eyes is out of place.

“You ruined my cake!” Hungary roars, slamming her frying pan into Prussia’s face. He goes flying, and spins around three times before slamming into the wall.

“What’s going on here?” Austria frowns, leaning against the doorframe.

“Austria!” Hungary exclaims. “I made you cake!”

Austria surveys the rest of the room with reproach. A couch is flipped over, and a chair lays on its side. Blood pools around Prussia’s head… he’s out cold. And lying in a large hole in his wall...

And in the center of it all is Hungary, smiling with a cake in her hands. It looks like Prussia… save for a large streak in the center.

“It’s very nice,” Austria smiles, reaching for a fork and stabbing it into Prussia’s face… the cake one, that is. “Thank you.”

He places a kiss on her cheek, and she flushes deep red. 

“I need to work on my next sonata… see you guys for dinner?” Austria asks, twirling a pencil around his finger. 

“Sure!” Hungary grins. 

“Then I’ll see you then,” Austria finishes, retreating back to his piano.

“Ow…” Prussia mutters, rubbing his head.

“Sit up,” Hungary huffs, reaching into her pocket for gauze. “Let’s get you fixed up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so thus ends the stuff i wrote while trying desperately to avoid my family XD  
> and also the fluff. who coulda guessed?  
> btw the thing about cake for the sake of cake? i won an argument with that so feel free to use


	5. Day 5: + HRE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the angst begins

Every country has regrets. 

For some, like England and France, it’s war. 

For others, like America, Germany, Japan, Russia, it’s things out of their control.

Some countries bury their regrets deep, unknowingly seeding sadness and despair.

Austria’s regret haunts him in his dreams each and every night, chasing him again and again. 

The dream starts like any other. He’s sitting in the midst of a field of daffodils, bright yellow bulbs swaying in a gentle wind. The sky above is a bright blue, brighter than real life. 

A flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye causes him to turn, and when he turns back, a small boy stands atop a rock before him.

His hair is light blond, shining bright in the sun. Blue eyes are the color of the sky, and his face is turned skywards, staring into the clouds. 

His black cape billows out behind him, tugged by the wind. He holds a hat in his hands, one all too familiar to Austria.

They stay like that for an indeterminable amount of time, just waiting.

In the corner of his vision, two figures appear. 

One is his height, looking the same as he does now. Blond hair just barely brushes his shoulders, and blue eyes might as well be shards of ice for all the compassion they show. 

The other is just a child, the same height as the boy. He wears a green maid’s outfit, and his caramel hair is tousled, as well as having a rebellious curl sticking out of the side.

As the first strides towards the boy, the child races towards him, growing taller with every step until he’s as tall as Austria. He reaches his hand out, as if trying to grab the boy… but the man with eyes of ice reaches him first.

Blood explodes through the air as the man forces his sword through the boy’s chest. The daffodils are coated red, and the caramel-haired man screams, lunging for him.

Tears roll down Austria’s cheeks, and he’s fighting to move, but arms wrap around his body - Hungary, he realizes, and she buries her face in his shoulder.

He screams at her to let him go, because the man with eyes of ice is gone and the caramel-haired man clutches the bleeding child to his chest.

And in the blink of an eye, they’re all gone, except for him and the child.

A drop of rain lands on his nose, and he looks up to see the formerly-clear sky now awash with clouds. 

He can move now, and he crawls across the ground to the boy, whose crimson blood continues to color the golden petals a dark red. 

He sobs words of apology, holding the boy close to his chest. 

But just like before, it’s too late. He’s always too late to save his younger brother, to save the Holy Roman Empire


	6. Day 6: + Liechtenstein

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so fun fact: this chapter was originally supposed to be austria going to see the leaves change with switzerland and liechtenstein a la danganronpa
> 
> this is not that

He reaches for his violin, frowning at the dust.

It’s been - what, months, years, since he touched it? Too long.

But with the violin comes a wave of memories, threatening to pull him under and submerge him in grief. 

Liechtenstein sits on the sofa, dull teal eyes staring blankly into space. She’s not crying - her tears have long since run dry.

Now, she’s like an empty husk, hollowed-out and fragile. Her hair is longer and greasy, her eyes bloodshot and tired.

Neither of them are willing to address the elephant in the room.

Liechtenstein must feel the most guilt. It was her people, after all. And while he doesn’t blame her, it’s difficult to fight the twinge of pain that comes from looking at her.

She’s so much like him…

He rests the violin on his shoulder, dismissing the thoughts. Dwelling in the past any longer might kill them.

The first notes that come out of the violin screech painfully, and he flinches. Liechtenstein even shows some irritation - the slightest twitch of her facial features.

He exhales slowly, and closes his eyes. Sighing, he tunes the instrument, while Liechtenstein looks on with her dead-eyed stare.

The next notes that come from the instrument are soothing. They fill the air with their melodic tune, replacing the dismal sadness that filled it previously. 

He closes his eyes, and lets the memory wash over him.

__

_“Oi, Austria.”_

__

_Switzerland places a hand in the small of his back, and rests his chin on his shoulder. “You promised you would play for me.”_

__

_“I’m eating cake,” he frowns, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “Later.”_

The music increases in tempo, and the memories come faster and faster. 

__

_“Hey.”_

__

_He places his hand on Switzerland’s shoulder, pulling him in for a hug. He hates how frail the other nation appears, hates the bags beneath his eyes. Hates how his sister made him look this way and how he won’t do a thing about it. “Are you okay?”_

__

_“I want you to play for me,” Switzerland mumbles, burying his face in his shirt. “I want to hear you play the violin.”_

__

_It hurts him to refuse, but he has to. “I can’t right now, Swiss. After this is all over, I’ll play a concert for you, okay? I’ll play you a concert.”_

__

_Switzerland hums his assent, eyes drifting closed._

The piece hits his peak, and he sighs, hot tears threatening to spill over.

__

_“B-Big brother…” Liechtenstein sobs, small hands holding onto Switzerland as tight as she dares. “B-Big brother, y-you can’t go!”_

__

_“It’s alright, Lili,” Switzerland smiles. “You won, fair and square. I’ll be okay.”_

__

_He can tell that Switzerland’s lying. He’s not going to be alright. The tears streaming down his cheeks as he tries his best to put up a brave front are proof enough._

__

_The idea comes to him in a flash, and he looks over at the corner of his living room._

__

_“I’ll be right back, Swiss,” he whispers, rushing over to his instrument. The violin sits, still in pristine condition, gleaming in the faint candlelight._

__

_“Austria?” Switzerland mumbles, tired eyes trying to focus on him. “What’re you…”_

__

_He reaches for the bow, and begins to play._

__

_“I ghöre äs Glöggli das lütet so nätt. Dr Tag isch vergange, itz gang i is Bett. Im Bett tuen i bäte und schlafe de i. Dr lieb Gott im Himmel wird ou bi mir si!”_

__

_Switzerland’s smile is faint, but there, and he has to fight to keep the tears out of his voice._

__

_“Und alli wo müed si händ Friede und Rueh. Dr lieb Gott im Himmel laht Böses nid zueh. I gohne is Bettli, eu allne Guet Nacht, Dr lieb Gott im Himmel und s'Aengeli wacht.”_

__

_“Thank you, Aus,” Switzerland whispers, eyes sliding shut._

__

_“De Tag isch vergange, es tunklet ja scho, Du lieb Gott im Himmel, ich bi ja so froh. Ich wott nöd elei si, doch du bisch bi mir, und Mueter und Vater, die wached mit Dir.”_

__

_Switzerland’s chest isn’t moving. He’s not breathing._

“Austria…” Liechtenstein whispers, grounding him in the present. “You’re crying…”

He touches his cheek, and finds that what she says is true. 

Liechtenstein stares at him, brow furrowed with worry. Her eyes are still dull, still tired, but there’s something in the way she sits, in the way she is that suggests life.

“Just… do you think Swiss knew?”

“That you love him?” Liechtenstein rests her head on her palm, frowning. “I think he did.”

“...good.”

“Do you think… do you think he knew that I was sorry?”

“Yeah.”

“Good… that makes me… happy.”

She says the word as if it’s unfamiliar, a word in a different language. And it could very well be for how often ‘happy’ is said in his house nowadays.

“Austria?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you… play that song again?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translation:
> 
> I hear a little bell  
> That rings so beautifully,  
> The day is done,  
> Now I go to bed.  
> In bed I say my prayers  
> And I sleep there.  
> The dear God in Heaven  
> Will be close to me too. 
> 
> And all those who are tired  
> Will have peace and rest.  
> The dear God in Heaven  
> Does not let evil in.  
> I'm going into my little bed  
> Good night everyone,  
> The dear God in Heaven  
> And the little angels watch over. 
> 
> The day is done,  
> Night is already falling,  
> You, dear God in Heaven,  
> I am so glad  
> I don't want to be alone,  
> But You are close to me  
> And Mom and Dad  
> Watch with You.


	7. Day 7: + Russia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guessss who didn't know what she was doing?  
> me!

There are not many things in this world that can scare Austria.

Actually, amend that statement to ‘there are many things in this world that can scare Austria’ and it will be a bit more accurate.

He has a list, actually. It’s not as long as some other countries’. In fact, he saw Italy’s once (just the names of the Allied Powers scribbled over and over with the occasional pasta) and it’s twice the length of his.

But pretty close to the top is Russia.

He still bears the scars from when Russia invaded him, back during World War I (granted, he did start it by annexing Serbia) but that’s not to say he and Russia are on great terms nowadays.

He’s flipping through paperwork at the world meeting, pointedly ignoring America as he sips his tea.

“Good afternoon, friend Austria!”

He lets out a (completely manly) shriek and drops his tea, the amber liquid immediately seeping into his papers. Thankfully, none of the others at the table seem to notice, and he spins to confront the nation.

Russia stands there, hands folded and mouth widened in a cherubic smile. Austria can tell that he holds a metal pipe in his coat, and flinches.

“No need to be scared!” Russia smiles, and Austria gropes under the table for Hungary or Germany. “We’re all friends here, right?”

“R-Right,” Austria stammers. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Belarus clutching her knives, white-knuckled from fury.

“Hey, guys!”

Hungary’s hand tightens around his, and she offers Russia an innocuous smile. “The meeting’s over, and Austria promised that he’d take me out to lunch!”

“Oh?” Russia smiles. “Don’t let me keep you.”

Hungary practically drags Austria out of the room as Russia and Belarus converse. He breathes a sigh of relief in response, daring to relax.

“Thanks, Hungary.”

“You know how you can thank me?” Her grassy-green eyes sparkle as she continues “How about taking me to that lunch?”

He sighs, but she smiles as he acquiesces.


	8. Day 8: Sweets

Austria has three loves in life. His piano, his friend, and cake.

And while two of those are no surprise, the extent to which he loves cake would surprise anyone.

"Aus-tria," Prussia sing-songs, stirring a bowl of cake batter. "Aren't you worried about what West will think?"

"I suppose," Austria replies, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "But he always accepts it."

"I'm not worried about your safety, I'm worried about mine!" Prussia exclaims, running a hand through his white hair. "I mean, I sort of like living!"

"It's not Hungary," Austria frowns, cracking an egg into the bowl. "Don't be a baby."

Prussia pouts, pouring his cake batter into the pan and sliding it into the oven. "Aww..."

"I don't understand you," Austria huffs, grabbing a spatula.

"So, how are things with you and Switzerland?" Prussia smirks, resting his chin on Austria's shoulder.

"About the same as you and... what's his name again?"

"Canada."

"Yes, Canada. I don't know why I always forget him, he is nice."

Austria pours his batter into the pan, swiping his index finger through it and licking it clean.

"Perfect."

"If you say so," Prussia sighs, eying the kitchen. "Maybe we should clean this all up..."

Flour blankets one counter, and multiple eggs are smeared on the walls. The sink is covered in vegetable oil, and the air smells like vanilla extract.

"Brother! Austria!"

Germany's voice floats through the air, and Prussia screams.

"Sorry! I'll be right back!" he shouts, throwing open the back door and running.

"Prussia!" Germany roars, leaping through the room and outside in pursuit of Prussia.

"They are strange..." Austria trails off.


End file.
